


Why Me?

by Telesilla



Series: Changelings [1]
Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: AU, Gen, cyclical physical sex change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>This is his life, he thinks as he stares at his body. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Me?

_Tim, age 15_

"C'mon Timmy," Tim's dad says. "Do it again, same motion."

"Ow," Tim says after he's thrown the pitch. "Dad, I'm gonna Change tonight."

"So?"

"So I'm kinda achy. Can we please cut it short?"

His dad frowns and crosses his arms across his chest. "And that's what you're going to say to your manager during a night game in the bigs? 'Sorry, Skip, but I'm sore?"

Normally Tim would sigh and reach for the next baseball, but for once, he's going to take a stand. "By the time I'm in the Show, I'll be more used to it."

"You've been Cycling for three years now."

Like Tim doesn't know that already.

"Yeah and it'll be another couple years before my body stops growing. It gets easier then." Tim looks down at his hand, at the callus on his finger. "If I try to pitch around the ache, it'll mess with my motion." 

His dad just gives him that look and yeah, that's it; Tim's had enough. "I'm done," he says. "My entire body's going to change shape in about five or six hours and I need a fucking break."

"Language," Chris says, but, as always, Tim's sure his dad is saying it because he thinks he's supposed to. "If you're sure you need to quit for the night...."

"Don't try to make me feel guilty," Tim snaps. "I didn't fucking ask for this."

Before his dad can answer, Tim turns on his heel and heads for the house. 

Dinner that night is strained. Sean tries to act like nothing's unusual and that's just one more thing that gets on Tim's nerves. In a way, his dad's right; it's been three years and you'd think Tim would be used to it by now. Used to all of it, the way no one mentions it unless he brings it up, the way his dad acts like Tim's Cycles are a personal insult, the pervasive ache in his joints....

Tim does his homework in his room or at least he pretends to. He's not stupid and he gets good grades, but it's hard to concentrate when he knows what's coming. He told his dad it would get easier, but he's just repeating what his doctor says. Tim was really young when he first Changed and he's still got a lot of growing to do. At least, Dr. Carter told him, he'll have worked through all the other adjustments by the time he graduates from high school.

And sure, Dr. Carter's a Changeling too, but Tim thinks it's funny the way everyone acts like they know all there is to know about how it works. Like people have been Changing forever and not just since sometime in the early 1900s. No one knows why it happened or why, with each generation, it's happening to more and more people, but all the doctors and shrinks he's seen act like they have all the answers. 

Well, except the only one that matters to Tim: why me?

He thinks that again much later that night after he's Changed and showered. He checks himself out in the mirror--not actual Mirror Work, just looking--and he thinks that maybe his tits are getting a little bigger, but he's not sure. This is his life, he thinks as he stares at his body. 

Why me?

* * *

_Buster, age 16_

Buster's working his way through a set of exercises that are supposed to get him used to the physical changes he's gone through when he feels an all over ache in his joints. It's not the exercises themselves--he's just as fit now as he was before this happened--so it has to be something else. He's sure he'll Change tonight even though this is only his second Cycle.

Fuck that, he thinks and heads over to the bucket of baseballs he hauled out of the barn earlier. He needs to get used to working around this--around a new body, around the pain, around the anger and the fear. With a scowl he starts throwing toward the target painted on the side of the barn. He'll try pitching next time, he tells himself. This time around it's just basic throwing mechanics, learning how to throw in this--in _his_ Changeling form. At least it's October. He's got months before baseball starts and he didn't sign up for football this year. He wasn't going to anyway because it's time for him to concentrate on baseball, but it feels like a defeat nonetheless.

He's quiet during dinner and more than once, he catches his parents exchanging glances. After helping clean up, he sits at the dining room table and works on his English assignment. The ache gets worse and by the time he finishes his homework, he just wants to curl up and die. NIght games, he tells himself as he forces himself to take a shower. No one's gonna care if you're hurting; Changelings who want to play ball have to be tough.

Tougher than other guys, he thinks and while Buster might be a pretty serious person, he can't help smiling just a little at having that thought while soaping up his boobs. He's still at the "shower as quick as possible and don't think about it" stage, though, so he doesn't linger. It takes time, the literature assures him, but someday he'll learn to accept this other body as his.

Buster's not so sure about that.

Sheer determination will only take him so far. By the time Buster pulls on the oversized t-shirt and stretched out old sweats he's been sleeping in, he's shaking. It'll get better once he's finished growing, or so he's read. The doctor in Atlanta told him the same thing--how it was so hard for her at first but that it got better.

Buster's not so sure about that, either.

The one thing he does know is that he's not going to keep everyone in the house up all night. He left his sleeping bag in the barn after this Cycle started; all he has to do is grab his pillow and head out. He's hoping to avoid everyone, but just when he reaches the kitchen door, someone says, "hey."

"Hey," Buster says, turning to look at Jesse. 

"Are you going to sleep in the barn again?"

"Yeah. I don't want bother everyone."

"Is it scary?" Jesse bites his lip. "Sorry...."

"It's scary," Buster says. "But they say I'll get used to it."

Jesse nods, and he looks reassured, like of course Buster will get used to it. "Hope it's not too bad tonight."

"Yeah, me too." Buster leans forward and ruffles Jesse's hair, just to tease him.

Sure enough, Jesse bats at his hand. "Cut it out."

That, at least feels familiar, Buster thinks as he makes his way across the back yard. Maybe all of it will be, in a year or so. Just another thing that happens every month.

An hour later, as he curls up in tight ball, screaming into his pillow, he's sure he can't go through this every month. Buster's not given to self-pity but when he's finally done--his body settled into its familiar male form--he can't help crying. Tomorrow he'll smile and be strong and go to school with his head up, but tonight....

Tonight, he'll lie in the dusty barn and wonder why this had to happen to him. 

Why me?

_-end_

**Author's Note:**

> After putting some thought into it--and with the help of sophiahelix--I've decided to post the main story of this arc all at once and post the backstory stuff as supplemental fics. I've made some changes to this universe, so it won't totally match the headcanons that led to this series. Speaking of Sophia, this one is all her fault--she's the one who requested those headcanons in the first place.


End file.
